


When the stars aling

by Miss_Kitten



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: It’s clear for Thranduil that reader and Feren fancy each other, yet neither of them makes a move. So, obviously, the King needs to intervene.





	When the stars aling

Carefully unfolding the material, you present the newly made coat to your King. You have spent past week on sewing it and you are almost dying from nerves whether or not the King will approve it. not once has he ever criticized your work yet every time you are a shaking mess.

Being King Thranduil’s personal seamstress required a lot of creativity and even more skill. Sometimes, you were given little to no time to create a new garment but always, without late, without even the tiniest doubt, you managed to accomplish given task.

King Thranduil appreciated it very much. He was proudly wearing anything that came from your hands, never questioning your chose of materials or colors. He trusted that you wouldn’t make a mistake or purposely ruin his image. He has never been disappointed in you before.

“Purple?” he breaks the silence, making your heart do a flip in your chest. With an insecure look you peek a head from behind the coat.

“I found that purple matched silver perfectly. And, if I may add, it would bring out the silverfish shine in your hair, my King.”

“Never before had anyone suggested purple. I, myself, didn’t think it might fit. But, my dear Y/N, this is absolutely outstanding! Wonderful!”

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling brightly as King Thranduil beckons you to help him put on the coat. Cautiously, you slide it up his arms and adjust it around his ankles. He hums approvingly, watching himself in his full-body mirror.

“You never cease to amaze me with your creativity. Just as I am sure that nothing can surprise me, you come and show me yet another breathtaking work of yours,” he praises quietly as if fearing that someone might hear the King speaking words of praise instead of cold demands.

You bow your head and mutter a grateful “thank you” as a knock on the door makes both yours and Thranduil’s head jerk that way.

“Come in!” he orders loudly and you take a step back, folding your hands together on your stomach, waiting for being released or given new task. You keep your head low, looking rather at your boots.

“Feren, is the division back already?”

You fight an urge to take a glimpse when you hear that name. Feren had caught your eyes as soon as you began working closely to King Thranduil yet he never seemed to notice you. Always silent, hardly looking at you.

“Yes, my King. They reported that the Forest is ridden of the Spiders.”

“Good,” the King says and you notice that he turns around to face Feren. “How do you find my new coat?”

“It looks very… kingly.”

“Ah, perfect. Y/N has the best taste. I am fortunate that she’s my seamstress, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes, I do believe so, my King,” Feren stutters and you dare lift your head to look at him. His cheeks are red, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. King Thranduil’s lips are curled into a smirk as he glances between you and Feren, your body quickly heating up.

The King knows something, something you’re not aware of.

“Y/N, I will need a matching shirt for that coat. How long will take for you to do it? The meeting is this evening.”

“It is almost ready, my King,” you announce surely and Thranduil lets out a chuckle.

“You’ve already began sewing it, have you?”

“Yes, my King,” you reply with a soft smile and Thranduil shakes his head.

“Truly, I am fortunate… go now, I don’t want to stop you. Feren, you stay, I have more questions for you.”

“My King,” you bow your head respectfully before taking your leave and once the door close behind your back, you cup your cheeks with your palms, not even surprise when you find them heated.

If only Feren spoke a word to you…

_____

Feren gulps, feeling unsure under his King’s stern, examining gaze.

“You fancy my seamstress…” Thranduil muses, a hint of amusement in his voice and Feren swallows hard before looking at his King.

“Y-yes, my King,” Feren admits bashfully, in that very moment wanting to be swallowed by the earth. He kept his feelings hidden, buried deeply as he was sure that you wouldn’t feel the same way about him. He was almost certain that you were already courted by someone else, given that you hardly ever spent time alone. Even in your workplace, there was always someone accompanying you, whether a maiden or a guard.

Feren often thought that you were the palace’s sunshine, with your giggles and kind heart, with your eagerness to help everyone and simply put a smile on every face you have passed. He found himself falling for you in no time.

King Thranduil clears his throat, bringing Feren back to reality.

“Do you plan on doing something about it? I’m positive Y/N won’t mind.”

“I-I, uhm… I don’t know what to, my King.”

“You’re oddly quiet when she’s around, I noticed.”

“I don’t want to make fool out of myself, my King, that would be a shame.”

“That’s true, Feren, that’s true…” Thranduil says, heading to a table with wine flask, pouring some into a glass. He takes a sip, clearly pondering something.

“I have never seen anyone giving Y/N flowers. And from what I saw on the garments she made, she’s quite fond of them.”

“Sh-should I give her flowers?” Feren sounds unconvinced so Thranduil gives him a scolding look.

“Feren, I am trying to give you an advice on how to woo a woman you fancy. Do you not trust me?”

“I do, of course!” Feren assures fervently and Thranduil nods, chuckling. It still appears rather impossible for Feren to comprehend that the King himself wants to help.

“Now, listen carefully. I will not repeat myself, I’m too busy today…”

_____

The evening came sooner than you expected but luckily, King’s shirt was finished on time. He was pleased, which made you happy and satisfied.

You hoped that Feren would be somewhere around but apparently he was sent to make sure that the meeting would be safe and unbothered by unwelcomed intruders.

Much to your surprise, as you come back to your workplace, the door is ajar and you hear a sound from within the room, indicating that someone is there. You are sure that nobody was left in your room when you headed to King Thranduil’s chambers.

With quickened heartbeat and slightly sweaty hands you open the door fully and step inside, ready to shout from the top of your lungs for a guard.

It’s not necessary, however, as a guard stands in the middle of the room, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers tightly as if it can shield him from whatever comes his way.

He swallows thickly when your eyes focus on him.

“My lady Y/N, I apologize for startling you. I didn’t mean to.”

“No need to apologize, my lord, I am not angry with you,” you say softly and smile at him, trying your best to ignore a wild flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You wipe your palms on the front of your dress, waiting for Feren to say anything.

“I, uhm,” he clears his throat, sliding the flowers towards you, “those are for you, of course.”

You take the flowers and sniff them, your smile broadening.

“Thank you, they’re lovely!”

“Not as lovely as you, my lady,” Feren says on a one breath, a furious blush appearing on his cheeks and your mouth falls agape, your eyes widen as time seems to still and stop passing whatsoever.

Feren freezes, seemingly regretting saying the compliment or maybe he didn’t mean it? You can’t tell because all he does is blinking rapidly, evidently at the loss of his words.

“Feren?” you call gently, taking a step towards him and it seems to wake Feren from the haze.

“E-excuse me, my lady-“

“Y/N. You can use my name, I don’t mind.”

“Y/N,” he says it smoothly, as if it’s the most beautiful word he ever heard and you shiver slightly, risking another step closer.

“How did you know that I like those flowers? If I may ask, of course.”

“I asked. I never saw flowers in your workplace, I didn’t know which ones you prefer, so I asked.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yes, I wanted to give you something you enjoy.”

“Thank you. Your mission is accomplished, that is for sure,” you jest and Feren grins, tugging at the strand of his hair.

“I was wondering if you… if maybe we could… What I want to ask is would you…” he stumbles over his words and eventually gives in, taking a deep breath.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” he finally says, gazing into your eyes timidly and gasps when out of sudden you grab his hand and lace your fingers with his.

“Come then,” you coax with a gleeful sparkle in your eyes and how can Feren possibly say no to you?

With excitement filling your every cell, you head out of the palace, slowly walking in the gardens nearby the place.

______

Meanwhile, after the meeting Thranduil invited one of the delegates to drink wine with him on one of many terraces. The delegate is now talking enthusiastically about his newly born daughter but Thranduil’s eyes are focused on something else.

Far in the gardens, he spotted a pair of one of his closest servants. They were holding hands, evidently enjoying each other’s company, laughing and talking, and Thranduil can’t help but cheer internally.  

“Finally,” he thinks to himself as he takes a sip of wine, wondering whether gold or silver fit you better. You deserve the finest jewelry for your wedding.


End file.
